See the Sunlight
by ForeverMartyr
Summary: Star Trek drabbles to the lyrics of "Tik Tok" by Kesha. May or may not be exactly what you think!


**A/N: Well, hey all. This is just a random idea I had; I have no clue where it came from. I suppose I needed inspiration for my other story (which will be updated soon, promise!) But it was one of the most fun things I've ever written :) **

**And yes. These ARE a bunch of drabbles to the lyrics of "Tik Tok". However, they could pertain to anything. Any pairing, any situation, and they do not have to follow any specific plot. That's what I love about drabbles.**

**Anyway, this is only part of the song. If y'all could give feedback, that would be lovely :) And it would also help me to decide if a) I want to complete the song, b) I want to continue, but to other lyrics, or c) If I should get back to my old stuff. (And if you have any suggestions, let me know!) **

**_WARNING:_ This story is rated T, but there CAN and WILL be drabbles that are not for minors. Those drabbles I have marked with an asterisk (*). So please, if sexuality is not your thing, just skip on down to the next one. Thanks :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek, sadly. If I did, I'd make a bunch of these happen :)**

**-Rose**

* * *

See the Sunlight

**Wake up in the morning feeling like P. Diddy**

James Tiberius Kirk awoke at roughly six o'clock in the morning, his body aching all over. Sunlight streamed through a window above his head, shining into a room he was unfamiliar with, but one he recognized. He yawned, rumpling his hair with one hand and rubbing his eyes with the other. He groaned at a sudden cramp in his lower left leg, finding himself unable to move it. As soon as his vision had cleared, he took a look around the room.

He lay atop a red leather couch in only his jeans and boxers, taking note of the scattered and sleeping bodies across the room, two scantily clad females sprawled across his chest. The faint smell of alcohol reached his nostrils as he drank in his surroundings, taking note of the crumpled red cups, empty pizza boxes, and drunken stupors that consumed the remainder of the room's occupants. Stretching, Jim managed to gently move the girls off of him and find the remainder of his clothes. A smirk spread across his face as he remembered the events of the previous night.

_That was one hell of a party._

**Got my glasses, I'm out the door**

Spock stood up and buttoned his pants, adjusting his now-wrinkled jacket on his body. Jim smirked as he watched his professor become fully clothed again, having done the opposite only a few moments ago. He didn't bother to fix his own mussed hair or cadet uniform; it would serve as a pleasant reminder for his talent of persuasion.

"So," Jim said, amused by his teacher's reactions. "Does this mean you'll raise my essay grade a little higher?" His blue eyes sparkled devilishly at Spock, who attempted to hide the slight green blush that crept to his cheeks. He fastened his jacket before answering.

"I can only do so much," Spock murmured, avoiding Jim's suggestive gaze, "but perhaps I could make some small adjustments."

Jim's smirk was a full grin now. "Works for me," he replied, and before Spock could respond, the student had gripped the Vulcan by the lapel and pressed their lips together in a brief but passionate kiss, making both men seize up with emotion. Spock sighed when his clever student pulled away and winked, strutting out of his office with a satisfied expression plastered to his face. The professor gripped a large textbook in one hand, picked up his glasses with the other, and nonchalantly followed Jim out of the room.

**I'm gonna hit this city**

Hikaru Sulu was not normally one to party when the _Enterprise_ landed for shore leave. His preferred method of vacation was to curl up in a large chair with a book or two about plants and relax with a cup of fresh green tea. The nights he spends are usually calm and relaxing, much-needed after the adventures in space. It wasn't often that he wanted to go out, and when the urges came, he could always stunt them with a stronger tea.

But when Pavel Andreievich Chekov shows up at his door in tight gray jeans, a forest green V-neck that clings in all the right places, and leans against the doorframe with that oh-so-innocent smile on his lips, Sulu simply can't say no.

**Before I leave, brush my teeth with a bottle of Jack**

"Scotty! Hurry up; we're going to be late!" Jim shouted, adjusting his bow tie in the mirror and fixing the strand of hair that had flopped over his eye, pounding on the bathroom door again. He was in charge of Scotty's well-being, especially since the engineer was an hour away from marrying the Ensign that he'd met on the _Enterprise_. She was a pretty girl indeed, but she'd be left alone at the altar if Scotty did not finish getting ready soon.

The door opened with a bang and Scotty emerged, looking rather disheveled and nervous. "Okay," he said shakily. "Let's do this." He strode right to the kitchen, uncorked a bottle on the counter, and downed a large gulp before fixing his tuxedo with a pleased smile. Jim didn't question his actions, for he was quite used to Scotty having a quick drink of something before going somewhere important.

'**Cause when I leave for the night, I ain't coming back**

When he was eleven, Sulu tried running away. He figured it would work, since he had everything prepared: a backpack with a change of clothes, several nonperishable food items, and plenty of money if he needed it. After having gotten into another fight with his parents about his priorities, one that resulted in serious screaming, Sulu hopped on his old bicycle and left. He didn't know where he was going, but enjoyed the calming, cool night wind in his face. The only reason he went back the next day was because he missed his warm bed, since sleeping in a dark alley really didn't cut it. His parents hadn't slept the night either and grounded him for the weekend, but they burst into tears when he returned, glad to have him back again.

Sulu was reminded of this every time the _Enterprise_ warped further away from Earth, finding himself homesick more often than not.

**I'm talking pedicure on our toes, toes**

If there was one thing Uhura missed about Earth, it was the spa that had been right down the street of her house. Being up in space certainly had its disadvantages as well, and she was in desperate need of a good relaxing day. Bubble baths and manicures weren't very easy to come by when she was light-years into darkness. The stress piled on quickly, and Uhura did her best to quell it, but her patience was growing thin. She made a mental note to make the spa her first stop on their next shore leave.

**Trying on all our clothes, clothes**

"Dammit, Jim, I don't really want—"

"Come on, Bones, you need a new jacket. Your old one is ripping at the shoulders."

"But—"

"_Go!_" Jim shoved the doctor into a dressing room, arms laden with winter jackets of every length and size. McCoy grumbled as he shut and locked the door, peeling off his old jacket and trying on a new one. The captain of the _Enterprise_ had forced him to go shopping during their shore leave, having noticed that the moment the CMO had stepped out into the cold, he had shivered mercilessly. He sighed as he buttoned the black wool coat, straightening up and looking himself in the mirror. In all honesty, it didn't look too bad. In fact—and McCoy hated himself for thinking this, but he couldn't help it—he looked almost downright sexy.

He threw open the door and arched an eyebrow at Jim. "Well?"

The sandy-haired man nodded once, eyes flickering to the right and left before shoving McCoy back into the dressing room yet again and pinning him up against the wall before shutting the door.

"I think that's a rather nice coat," he murmured as he pressed his lips all across McCoy's neck, "but you look _so_ much better with it off."

**Boys blowing up our phones, phones**

It was another long day on the ship, and Spock was quite tired. He wouldn't admit it, but his body was sore, he had a headache, and all he wanted to do was flop down on his bed and sleep. The moment he had stripped down and put on his pajamas, his PADD beeped from the table. Groaning softly, he walked over to it and realized he had three messages.

From Scotty: _Spock, did you remember to order the new dilithium crystals?_

From McCoy: _A reminder that your medical exam is tomorrow at 1300 hours. Don't forget, you green-blooded hobgoblin._

From Jim: _Spock, would you hurry up and get in the bed already? I've been waiting for you for the past ten minutes!_

The Vulcan turned around and saw Jim's grin from across the darkened room, his own PADD lighting up his face, and decided that he would have to respond to the messages in the reverse order that he read them.

**Drop-topping**

Jim knew he was in trouble after he was escorted home by the police officer, having driven that coveted red car off a cliff. He braced himself, waiting for his stepdad's wrath as he walked up the front steps. There was a very strong likelihood that he'd be sent to bed without supper, grounded, or worse. He sighed, brushing the dust off his jacket. Before he could open the front door, however, his eyes glimpsed something shiny leaning against the side of the house.

The convertible top had been found and recovered, bent and dirty but still in once piece. It was evident that Frank had attempted to save every bit of the car that was possible, but all he had been able to find was the top. For some reason, Jim grinned. Despite that he would most certainly be punished for the weekend, he couldn't help but feel triumphant at last.

**Playing our favorite CDs**

"What is this?" Spock inquired curiously, picking up the silver disc in Jim's childhood bedroom in Iowa. The light glinted off the surface, casting a rainbow on the walls. "Fascinating."

Jim grinned. "Now that," he said, taking the disc from Spock's fingers carefully, "is a CD. It's an ancient Earth musical device." He popped the CD in a large radio on the shelf, pressing play. A soft piano introduction filled the room, reverberating throughout and reaching the Vulcan's keen ears. He tilted his head to the side as he listened, the music flowing through him. A quiet chuckle escaped his lips to accompany his melting heart when Jim held out a hand.

"Wanna dance?"

**Pulling up to the parties**

Once Chekov manages to convince Sulu to get out and party, the rest is easy. All he has to do is find a suitable place to take him so the pilot wouldn't be bored. Tonight is different; Jim has rented out a large room in a hotel to celebrate Scotty's birthday. The two of them stroll down the street, talking and laughing as they reach the building, their fingers occasionally brushing against each other. Sulu's not one for parties, but as soon as he steps into the room, he's awe-struck.

Strobe lights are flickering from every corner, the music blasting so loud that he can barely hear himself think. At first, he's a bit repulsed by all the drinking and intense volume, but as soon as he sees how Chekov moves while dancing, he absolutely can't resist. Since the only way to converse is by shouting or whispering, the pilot leans forward and puts his lips very close to the tip of Chekov's ear.

"It looks like you've got excellent moves both on _and_ off the dance floor."

**Trying to get a little bit tipsy**

Jim hates getting drunk alone.

One night on the _Enterprise_, after he begs and pleads for Bones to let him have just _one_ bottle of whiskey, the doctor refuses to share it with him, claiming that he had far too much work to do. Scotty, much to Jim's surprise, was of no use either, for he'd already fallen asleep from the day's stressful events. Jim sighed, wandering the empty corridors of the ship with the bottle in his hand. He debated just drinking himself until he saw his First Officer.

"Spock! Get wasted with me," Jim had said, smiling and dragging the Vulcan into his quarters despite the protests that rang in his ears. The hybrid had no desire to drink or join his captain, but when Jim handed him a snack and had already opened the bottle, Spock decided that he had no choice but to stay and ensure that Jim didn't do anything reckless.

Little did he know that the treat he just consumed had been infused with liquid chocolate.

***Don't stop**

The body underneath him squirms at the touch, gripping the sheets in fervor. Breaths come quick and ragged from his lungs as he feels those cool lips wrap around his erection, sliding along his length at the perfect pace. He can't make comprehensible sentences, only moans and gasps as he's pleased by the other smirking figure above him. Dark eyes connect with light ones, both iridescent with lust.

A growl of approval comes from the mouth of the upper handed figure, enthralled by the sounds that the lower man was making. Fingers replace lips, moving in a faster pace than their predecessors had. Mumbled phrases made their way to the upper figure's ears, stimulating them both into a deeper hunger than before.

"I am afraid I did not grasp that statement," the more stable person said smoothly, in turn gripping the lower man with intensified pressure. The figure below threw his head back and forced himself to reply with a complete statement, sinking deeper into submission.

"Don't stop."

**Make it pop**

There aren't many things that Spock is afraid of, but balloons are one of them.

For his sixth birthday, his parents surprised him with a trip to Earth, and much to Sarek's disapproval but Amanda's amusement, they went to a circus. Though the younger Vulcan fought to control his emotions, he greatly enjoyed the lights, the sounds, the smells. He had been especially perplexed by the enormous bundle of colorful balloons tied to the carousel, and when Amanda offered to buy him one, he actually smiled with joy.

Ignoring Sarek's suspicious arched eyebrow, the human led her son over to the clown that stood near the bundle, handing them out to children. When asked what color he would like, Spock replied with "Blue," and the clown untied one to hand it to him. However, just as Spock went to grab it, the pressure inside caused it to pop directly in his face, frightening him and causing him to scream. Amanda took her crying son by the hand and led him away, hoping to distract him by bringing him to the cotton candy stand. Sarek shot the clown a harsh look before following his family.

This explained to Jim why Spock always closed his eyes before slipping on his Starfleet uniform. He didn't like the color blue so close to his face.

**DJ blow my speakers up tonight**

Despite contrary to popular belief, Jim didn't like parties because of the likelihood of getting drunk, meeting new people, or getting laid that night. In fact, he often enjoyed parties simply because of the music. He didn't know why, but something about the DJ calmed him down. Maybe it was because the music was so loud that it drowned out every pessimistic thought he had. It was the only time he was allowed to forget everything and let himself be free.

**I'mma fight till we see the sunlight**

Leonard Horatio McCoy was dead, and he knew it.

He'd taken a nasty fall on the planet they'd been carefully mapping, and accidentally tumbled down a hill, smashing his head on a rock. Blood dripped down the back of his neck, soiling his uniform. He couldn't be saved; no other doctor on the _Enterprise_ had his medical talent, and he could survive on only willpower, which was dwindling as the seconds ticked by. A groan escaped his lips softly as the world grew darker, threatening to consume him.

Suddenly, he felt pressure on his shoulder, the warmth of another body over him. The faint cries of "Bones…Bones…" reached his ears, forcing his brain to listen. It was only when McCoy saw Jim's face in his mind that he found the urge to fight again.

**Tick Tock**

"Bones, _please!"_

Sweat broke out across the doctor's brow as he rubbed the paddles together for the umpteenth time. "Clear!" he shouted, slamming them against the unconscious Vulcan's chest. Greenish blood dripped from a wound on his forehead, a reminder of their earlier brawl with the inhabitants of an unknown planet. His lifeless body jolted on the sickbed, but no other movement came. The tone on the heart monitor remained flat, the only sound in the room apart from Jim's gentle sobs.

"No…no…Len, please, try again, try again…"

The CMO shook his head slowly, having tried every trick in the book to bring Jim's First Officer back to him. He placed the paddles back on the rack, retrieving a PADD from the lower shelf with shaking fingers. "T-time of death…"

**On the clock**

Spock checked the clock on the wall for the umpteenth time, noticing with worry that it was half past midnight. He paused, mid-pace, to peek in the window of the room he was forced to remain outside of, but it was no use. Not allowed inside until everything had been cleared, Spock grew frustrated, a rare emotion that he acknowledged. He shoved his hands into the pocket of his Starfleet issue pants before beginning the pacing again, almost sure that he was wearing a path in the floor.

Minutes passed with the essence of hours until the doors opened with a _whoosh_, much to Spock's overwhelming relief. There stood Dr. McCoy on the other side, looking exasperated but pleased. He peeled the gloves off of his hands and said, "Spock, you're welcome inside now."

Before he had even finished his sentence, the Vulcan had pushed past him anxiously and over to the sickbed where Uhura lay, face streaked with sweat but an otherwise happy expression upon her face. Spock bit his lip in an attempt to hold back tears at the blanketed bundle in her arms, which moved very softly at the sound of his footsteps but did not wake.

For Spock, nothing mattered anymore. Not the constant issues that the crew faced in space, not the fact that he hadn't slept in over twenty-four hours, and certainly not the fact that the clock kept ticking incessantly upon the wall. The dreadful sound was replaced by his whisper in Uhura's ear, a reassurance of a passion never ceased.

"Nyota. I have at last understood what it means to have 'unconditional love'."

Her smile was worth it.

**But the party don't stop, no**

"Twenty…Nineteen…Eighteen…!"

The countdown echoed in Spock's ears as he was surrounded by the crew of the _Enterprise_, all of whom were counting down the seconds until the New Year. They had scrounged every party decoration possible, and the mess hall was entirely filled with people flitting in and out. His shoulders tensed as he looked around the room, never once understanding the purpose of celebrating time going by.

"Fifteen…Fourteen…Thirteen…!"

Spock almost jumped, but remained calm as he felt a hand entwine with his own, looking over to see Leonard McCoy standing next to him. The doctor did not look at him in the eye, but merely smirked as he drank from his glass. "Enjoying yourself, Spock?" he murmured, his gaze sparkling.

"Seven…Six…Five…!"

The edges of the Vulcan's lips turned upwards slightly in a mirror image of McCoy's. Their connection locked, hearts beating in a similar fashion and pace. Nodding once, Spock replied by grasping the doctor's hand tighter as the rest of the crew cheered when the clock struck midnight.

"Yes, doctor. I do believe that I am having a 'Happy New Year'."


End file.
